pink moon, burning palm tree

your bibliomancy forecast for the week of january 20th

[Ed. note: It turns out that this series will not end as abruptly as I thought. Though I lost the tarot deck in the fire, it turns out that I have two more card pulls to continue this series—both photos I had reserved for friends who had expressed interest in writing a guest post. The world goes on. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned: If you want to save something, you have to share it.]

the moon, and a sentence from Vigdis Hjorth’s Will and Testament:

“But I was far away, in Copenhagen, drinking with Klara at Eiffel, Anton Vindskev's favourite pub, grateful for Klara's existence and for the existence of dark pubs where you could drink yourself senseless because when everything else was so brightly lit all the time, you had to carry the darkness around within yourself and that was unbearable.”

the aleatory

Once, I was at the 24-hour Walmart in North Versailles, north of Pittsburgh. I was there with the guy I was dating at the time. We were bored and it was late, so we went to the 24-hour Walmart to buy each other ridiculous gifts. I was smoking a cigarette and waiting out in front of the Walmart because he wanted whatever he was getting me to be a surprise. (It was a mini license plate that said BABYGIRL. Surprise!) And it was also the night of the most insanely beautiful hot pink moon I’ve ever seen.

I was only there for a few minutes, but literally every single person leaving the Walmart stopped to take a picture of the moon. Maybe half of them muttered something about how pictures of the moon never turn out, but everyone did it.

I submit this as proof that we are all much more capable of enjoying the mystery than we let on. In all its forms: pink moon, burning palm tree.

the forecast

Accept that everything light in you comes from somewhere else. Keep your feet warm. Don’t hold still for too long. Have a few different faces at the party. Keep the coffee stain off your chin.

writing prompt

Follow the moon around in a small town for a night (like a stalker). Figure out where it actually goes to spend the night.

a chune

“In Dreams” by Roy Orbison

My greatest sin as an artist has been this: I have been petty. I have been wounded by people who don’t understand me. I want to fight them. I fight myself for being so angry and so obtuse. It’s a stupid cycle. It wastes a lot of time and energy. When David Lynch died, I realized suddenly how foolish I have been. Did my hero fight anyone who didn’t understand his work? Was he trying to prove something to a childhood bully? Maybe a little, but I doubt it. He was too productive for that. His faith in his vision allowed him to produce a lot of it and give it widely. Art is about risk. That means you have to go first, before anybody appreciates or understands you. David Lynch put his head in the lion’s mouth. I hope to be the same way.

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credits: small spells tarot deck by Rachel Howe
Will and Testament by Vigdis Hjorth
“In Dreams” by Roy Orbison

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dear diary, everyone has been so nice. Thank you for all of your kind words, and all of your help. Every day has been a little bit different since our house burned down. It reminds me of what my friend Tracey said about quitting smoking: “It was easier than I thought it would be. But I thought it would be impossible.” A few times a day, we remember something else that was in the house: a beautiful navajo blanket. A really great T-shirt from Anza Hardware in Little Tokyo, which went out of business. The experience continues to be strange, and one of the strangest things is that it’s survivable. I’m sure I’ll have more to say about it someday. But for now, it’s just my thanks to you. XS